A Tale of Regret
by AshTMI17
Summary: The morning after a one night stand, Clarke comes face to face with her ultimate regret. And it just keeps getting better from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

 ** _This will be a short multi-chapter fic, rated M. Please excuse any typos – I promise I will eventually edit this. I own nothing but the plot. Enjoy my first venture into The 100 fan fiction!_**

Clarke was coming off the worst 12-hour shift of her life. Being stuck in the operating room with Finn for nearly the entire thing was bad enough, but then running into Raven (who was picking _her fiancée_ , Finn) was just icing on the cake. Finn and his puppy dog eyes and Raven and her glares could both go to hell. Clarke was going out and getting drunk and maybe find a hot guy to make her scream. That was the only acceptable solution to her shit mood. Med school sucked. Relationships sucked. Cheating bastards sucked. Slamming her car door after she climbed in, she glanced around the hospital parking garage. Seeing that no one was around, she shimmied out of her disgusting scrubs and pulled on her ass hugging jeans, a low cut tank that showed off her _considerable assets_ , and sexy red pumps. She brushed through her hair with her fingers, applied a layer of cherry red lipstick and mascara, and drove off.

Arriving at Dropship at 9 pm, she quickly found a parking spot and went inside. It was a Friday night and the bar was packed, mostly with college kids. She couldn't really blame them, she discovered this bar when she and Octavia were freshman and needed to escape the dorm. They had cheap shots and good music and rarely checked IDs. Nowadays, Clarke only went to Dropship when she didn't want to run into anybody she knew. She was too old for a place like this, but, well… cheap alcohol and sexy boys were a draw to her. Even college boys could work for one night to scratch her itch. And she didn't have to face the judgment of her friends while doing it.

Clarke sat at the bar, ordering a couple tequila shots to take the edge off. With a sigh, she swiveled the seat around to scan the crowd, checking to see if anyone caught her interest. And there, at the end of the bar, was a tall, dark, and handsome man that could certainly fit the bill. Biting her lip, she sipped on the vodka and cranberry she'd just received, watching as the man downed what looked to be whiskey. He caught her watching him, she could tell because his lips tilted in a smirk.

He was the definition of perfection. Dark curls that were just a little too long, tan skin, and thick, toned muscles cording his body. She couldn't look away. He suddenly stood up and walked over to her. As he approached, Clarke had to bite back a groan. He was tall – well over six feet – and had adorable freckles across his cheeks. _Fuck_ , he was so hot. She rubbed her thighs together as wetness flooded between them.

"Hey there, Princess," he said, taking the seat next to her. And _goddamn, even his fucking voice was hot_. It was deep and warm and just made Clarke want to ride him into oblivion.

"Hi," she nearly sighed. Damn, her voice was breathy. But she couldn't help it; this man was something else. Now that he was close, she could tell he was older, definitely not the typical Dropship customer.

They made small talk for a little while, sitting so close that she could smell him and his arm brushed against hers as he drank his whiskey. His eyes burned with lust, and Clarke could tell that the look was mirrored in her eyes. He was hot, and charming, and _perfect_ to scratch the itch.

"What do you say we find somewhere more… private?" he suddenly asked, his thumb rubbing circles on Clarke's thigh.

"I say that's a great idea, come on." They closed their tabs and she dragged him outside to the deserted parking lot. It was only around midnight, the bar was still in full swing, so everyone was inside. She unlocked her car doors and slid into the backseat, pulling him in behind her. Before he was even settled in the seat, she was in his lap, her legs straddling his waist, and her lips were slamming against his.

It was hot and dirty. His tongue slid into her mouth and she fought back a groan as her hips started grinding down against him. His arms were around her, hands cupping her ass. When they finally pulled apart for air, her hands slid under his tee shirt, sliding along his impressive abs before pulling his shirt over his head. His mouth found its way to her neck, sucking a deep mark into her skin. His hands left her ass and slipped under her tank, running along her back and stomach before removing it.

"Fuck Princess, you're so fucking hot," he hissed, kissing the swells of her breasts as she continued to rotate her hips. He unclasped her bra and she immediately shed it from her arms. "Damn, look at those tits," he nearly hissed as his hands moved to grab at her chest, his thumbs sliding over her nipples before tweaking them.

Her hand fell to his jeans and she quickly unbuttoned and unzipped them. He gasped as her hand snuck inside of his pants and boxers, gripping him tightly. At the same time, his hot lips surrounded her nipple, and she arched her back. She needed _more._ She may or may not have said that out loud, she was too distracted by the _goodness_ and his hard, velvety cock that she was so, so ready for as it pulsed in her grip.

"I'm gonna give you more babe, I promise. Fuck your hand feels good." His attentions moved lower and he undid her jeans, encouraging her to kneel on either side of him so he could slide her jeans and panties down in one swift move. Before she knew it, she was bare to him and he was lifting his ass of the seat to pull down his jeans and boxers.

"Holy fucking god," she groaned, taking in the view of his cock, which was resting against his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

"I know babe." She slammed her hips down again, rubbing her bare pussy against his cock. She was suddenly thankful that she got that Brazilian with Octavia last week. It felt so good. Her nerve endings were already firing when two of his fingers slid inside of her and he crooked his fingers against her. She gasped and leaned into him, her chest gliding against his.

She rode his fingers with abandon and kissed him hard, unable to contain her moans. His fingers rubbed against her walls, touching the soft tissue inside of her that made her convulse. And within minutes she was coming _hard_. Her thighs were shaking and her ears were ringing as she came down from her high and he smiled against her lips. "I needed that."

"Glad to be of service," he said with a chuckle. Before he could say anything else, she lifted herself up, wrapped her hand around his cock, and slid down, sheathing him inside of her. Taking a second to adjust to his impressive size, she kissed and sucked at his neck and his hands once again came to her nipples.

And then she was riding him. Her circular movements atop him were complemented by with clenching of her inner walls, making the drag even sweeter. She leaned back a bit, changing the angle and cried out at that change combined with him thrusting into her.

 _"Fuck, it's perfect. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"_

"That's right babe, ride me. Goddamn, you're so fucking hot. Is that the spot, Princess? Does that feel good? Tell me how it feels."

"So full. God, it's hitting me so good. Touch me. Please, please, touch me!" He voice rose as she begged him, the tension inside of her coiling. He groaned, one hand coming to her clit and rubbing tight circles while the other hand pinched her left nipple. He leaned toward her, kissing and sucking on her neck and collarbone.

The world faded away as Clarke fucked the stranger in the backseat of her car. Her entire body felt tense and there was a whooshing in her ears. He bit down on her neck and suddenly she was releasing, screaming as her hips stuttered and eventually stopped. He kept thrusting before stilling and groaning loudly into her ear. His cum was warm and wet inside of her as she finally pulled off of him, sitting on the seat next to him.

"Did we just fuck in the backseat of my car?" she asked. He was already pulling his pants up and putting his shirt back on.

"Sure as hell did. And it was _hot_. You're a fucking firecracker, Princess." She smiled widely as she re-clasped her bra. Hey, just because he was a stranger didn't mean she couldn't take a compliment from him, right? Sliding on her tank, she opened the car door and got out, with the man doing the same on his side. They stood toe to toe by the truck of the car.

"Well, this was fun," she said with a giggle. He leaned forward, kissing her gently. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and tilting her head. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers sliding through his curls.

She couldn't help it if he was so hot. She couldn't resist him.

He pulled away a few minutes later. "I gotta go, babe. I have an early day tomorrow. Thanks for this, I needed it." She nodded and, with one last kiss on the cheek, he was gone. She saw him cross the parking lot and get on a motorcycle before speeding away. In a daze, she decided to call a cab, she'd go back for her car the next day.

When she finally got home, Octavia was already asleep so Clarke wandered into her room, stripped, and promptly fell asleep on her soft bed.

"CLARKE! Wake up! My brother is going to be here in half an hour!" Clarke registered Octavia's voice and groaned. She'd forgotten that Octavia's brother, Bellamy, was moving back to town and he was coming over for breakfast before moving into his new apartment. Opening one eye, she pulled herself up. Hangovers were truly from the devil himself.

"There's a bottle of water and some painkillers on your end table. Now, get up and go take a shower. You look like a raccoon and smell like cigarettes and booze – not the impression I want to give my too strict, cop of a big brother. My best friend has to make a good impression. NOW GO!" Octavia yelled from the doorway of Clarke's room. How the woman was so awake at 8 am was a mystery. She must be really excited to see her brother, since it was usually impossible to find her even semi-coherent at this hour on a Saturday.

After a shower and throwing on a pair of jean cutoffs and a tee shirt, Clarke felt like a human being again. Her blonde curls were pulled up in a high ponytail and her face was bare. Octavia had recruited Clarke to help her decorate her brother's apartment while he, his friends, and Lincoln moved his belongings. So she was dressed for comfort and sweating. Just as she was tugging on her sneakers, there was a knock on the door.

"He's here! He's here!"

Clarke left her room a little hesitantly. She didn't know much about Bellamy Blake. She knew he was four years older than she and Octavia – twenty-nine – and a cop. He'd raised Octavia since she was fifteen, when their mom overdosed. He was always overprotective but, when Octavia got into college he decided to let her spread her wings and move to Chicago while he stayed behind at home to work for the NYPD four six years. However, now he was moving to become a detective in Octavia's adopted hometown. He wanted to be close to Octavia and he wanted a fresh start. Whatever that meant.

"Clarke, come meet my brother!" She didn't realize she had been standing frozen in the hallway until Octavia had dragged her to the living room.

"Bell, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is my brother Bellamy." The tall man standing in her living room turned around slowly, a smile on his face. Which promptly dropped as soon as their eyes met.

"Fuck," Clarke whispered. She'd just come face to face with what turned out to be her biggest mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**_I still own nothing but the plot._**

There, standing in her living room, was the man who had made her cum harder than any man before. The man who she could still feel thrusting inside of her. The man she never thought she would see again.

 _Well, fuck_.

Bellamy Blake was the hottie from the bar. Bellamy Blake had made her see stars. _Octavia's brother_. _Fuck_.

He was staring at her, not even pretending to _not_ be shocked. " _You're_ Octavia's best friend?"

" _You're_ Bellamy Blake?"

They were staring at each other. Octavia cleared her throat awkwardly. "Anyone want to explain to me how the hell you two know each other?"

Bellamy met Clarke's eyes, shooting a panicked look in Clarke's direction. The message was clear: _please don't tell O_. And she wholeheartedly agreed. So she lied through her goddamn teeth, and tried to swallow the guilt she felt at doing so. "We ran into each other last night at the bar – like literally. He spilled a drink on that hot tank top I have. I was pissed. There may have been some yelling. It's not a big deal."

Octavia glanced to her brother, who was nodding his head in agreement. "We had some words, I was surprised to see her, O. It's fine."

"Okay, well you two _have_ to get over it. Can't have my brother and best friend not getting along, okay?" Little did she know. They both nodded. "Okay, well let me go change and then we'll go get you all settled, Bell. Be right back. Don't kill each other." With one last glance over her shoulder, Clarke and Bellamy were alone again.

"This is a disaster," Clarke hissed.

"It's easy – we just pretend last night never happened. Shouldn't be a big deal, Princess."

Clarke felt her jaw clench. "Don't call me that!"

"You didn't mind last night." He smirked at her; his dark eyes alight with amusement.

"What happened to _pretend it never happened_?"

"You're right… Sorry. Let's just move on. For O." Clarke nodded. At least they could agree that they both loved O and didn't want to hurt her. When Octavia came out of her room, the two were sitting on opposite sides of the couch in silence.

"Well, this should be fun," she sighed, getting the awkward duo's attention.

They ate breakfast together, and Bellamy couldn't help but comment on their "fancy ass" apartment right on Michigan Avenue, overlooking the best block in Chicago. "How the hell are you swinging this, O? You're a teacher!"

"Clarke owns it," she muttered through her bacon and eggs, trying to end the conversation.

"Oh, Princess, your Mommy and Daddy buy you this place?" Bellamy teased.

Clarke took a deep breath and shot him a glare. "No, asshole. My dad was murdered. He left it to me in his will." With that, she pushed away from the table and ran to her room. She didn't want to look at the asshole anymore.

Octavia knocked on her door before pushing it open. "He wants to apologize, you know. He's an ass and he knows it." Clarke nodded and Bellamy walked into the room.

"I'm sorry Clarke. I, uh, I didn't realize."

She just nodded again. She wasn't crying, just sitting and staring at the picture of her and her father that sat on her bedside table. "It's fine, you didn't know. So," she said, standing up and forcing a smile onto her face, "who is ready to move!?"

Her false enthusiasm soon morphed into real joy as she got to decorate Bellamy's apartment. She even painted a mural on his office wall. She knew he was a fan of ancient Rome, so she painted a picture of the Parthenon and other Roman artifacts and locations. It was awesome. Meanwhile, Octavia decided where furniture would go and styled the place. She and Clarke both had an eye for design.

It was just an added benefit that Bellamy was distracted from Clarke when Lincoln arrived. His animosity was easily transferred to Octavia's boyfriend of one year. It wasn't fair, Lincoln was a good guy. But Clarke knew he could handle himself with Bellamy; he was tough. At least it took the pressure off of her to be civil with Bellamy. And Clarke genuinely liked Miller, Bellamy's new partner at Chicago PD, his boyfriend Monty, and Monty's friends Jasper and Murphy. So that was a plus too.

The day passed quickly and before long only Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, and she remained, watching mindless TV and eating pizza. It was nice. Clarke decided maybe Bellamy wasn't so bad after all as he cracked jokes and teased Octavia.

She became friends with Bellamy by accident really. It could all be blamed on the Blake siblings. Of that she was sure. She was an entirely innocent party. She never became friends with one-night stands, but Bellamy was obviously _not_ a normal one-night stand.

About a week after Bellamy's moving day, Octavia went out to dinner with her brother and then dragged him back to the apartment for dessert. Clarke was sitting on the sofa, studying for a final she had coming up and reviewing patient files for the Dr. Kane, her supervisor at the hospital. She was wearing her best sweats (meaning the ones with the most holes in them) and her hair was piled on the top of her head. She was decidedly _not_ sexy when the Blakes walked into the apartment.

"No, Bell, I refuse to watch _another_ fucking documentary on ancient Rome with you!" Octavia exclaimed as they walked through the door. "Hey Clarke, tell my brother that historical documentaries are worse than watching paint dry."

Clarke shook her head, chuckling. "I can't do that, O. You know how I feel about my Renaissance docs. It's serious business."

Octavia glared at her best friend. "Fine, then you go watch it with him on Friday. I have plans with Lincoln. Plus, I really don't want to." She smirked when her brother stuck his tongue out at her.

Clarke thought about it for a minute. "On Friday? What time?"

Bellamy looked at Clarke, surprised. They hadn't hung out much, and never without O. "Seriously?" Clarke nodded. "Uh, eight pm."

"I'll expect Indian takeout and beer."

"Okay."

"I'm in."

And that was how Clarke found herself laughing hysterically at the mockery of Julius Caesar that she saw on Bellamy's TV, her sock clad feet under her and Bellamy beside her, chuckling. "I… thought… this was… a documentary," she said between laughs.

"Me too. I didn't realize it was a parody."

"Until Caesar started singing Madonna. I mean, that should've been our first clue."

"And yet we kept watching."

"It was like a car accident. You feel terrible for watching but can't look away."

They just sat there laughing for a few minutes, at ease, as the credits rolled. Clarke looked over at Bellamy and saw that he was looking at her, too. "So," she drawled. "This was fun."

"Yeah, it was."

And just like that, she was friends with the older Blake. They exchanged phone numbers ("Just in case I find a DaVinci doc on TV, I need to let you know" he'd said).

She never heard about the documentary, but he did text her random emojis and pictures of the biggest Chicago style pizza she had ever seen. She texted him funny things that patients high on pain meds said and weird quotes from her anatomy textbook. It wasn't awkward for them to be friends. It was… fun. And easy.

Clarke only had to remind herself a few times that she couldn't jump him… again.

A month passed by in ease and Clarke found herself sick with the flu. And it fucking _sucked_. She threw up for an entire day, sweat building on her forehead as her stomach churned. She's was sitting on the bathroom floor around 1 pm, her head resting on the cool porcelain of the toilet when he came into the apartment. Octavia had given him a key for emergencies.

"Clarke?" he asked, quietly entering her bathroom. He kneeled beside her, wiping her damp hair out of her eyes. "You okay? Octavia asked me to check in on you since she can't leave the school and I'm off today. Said you were sick. And no offense but you look like shit."

"Thanks, Bell," she groaned.

"Hey, come on, how about you take a bath and I'll make you something to help settle your stomach? And I brought you some Gatorade, which should also help."

"Yeah, okay." With that, he helped her back onto her feet and her hands landed on his hips, trying to steady herself. She ignored the gasp that came from deep in his throat at the movement.

He cleared his throat and left, closing the door behind him. And as sick as she was, she couldn't help the heat that coursed through her as she thought of him. She did as he asked, quickly cleaning herself and feels a bit better by the time she got out. She dressed in a long tee shirt and brushed her hair before going into the living room. Bellamy was at the stove making her some scrambled eggs. Seeing the food, her stomach started grumbling. She was _hungry_. Like, beyond hungry. Ravenous.

He gave her a plate of eggs and saltine crackers with a small smile and she ate it quietly and quickly. "Thanks," she said after she gulped down the last of a bottle of Gatorade.

"No problem," was his only response.

She found herself laying with her head in his lap watching Grey's Anatomy as his hands played with her hair. And she couldn't afford to mind. "You know, we've known each other for a month now," she heard him whisper as she's nodding off. She just nodded her head, sinking deeper into the sofa.

When Octavia came home, she found them asleep like that, his head lulled back against the sofa and his hands still in her hair. She teased them relentlessly for that one.

When Clarke didn't feel better after a week, she decided to go see her doctor. The new symptoms she had – fatigue and back pain – made her concerned that it could be more than the flu. And it didn't go away.

It was a beautiful Thursday as she walked into the doctor's office. She filled out the paperwork without thinking too much, until it asked for her last period. And she couldn't remember. _Shit_. But she knew she was fine, since she was on birth control. Everything was fine. She repeated it to herself over and over again.

After her exam, the doctor took some blood for testing.

And two days later, she got a call. She was pregnant. _Fuck_. Bellamy Blake was the regret that just kept on giving, even when she thought he wasn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**_I still own nothing but the plot. Thank you so much to the wonderful people who have followed, faved, and reviewed this story. If you like this story, keep it up! It fuels my creative juices! Sorry for any typos, I promise I'll come back and edit soon._**

Everything was decidedly _not_ fine as Clarke sat on her bed, staring at the paperwork in front of her. She was pregnant. It was true. Her hands were shaking as she wiped a tear from her eye. What the fuck was she going to do?

She wasn't married. Hell, she wasn't even in a relationship. This baby was the result of a one-night stand with her best friend's brother. Her friend. She was in medical school, and she still had her residency to think about. She could barely afford to take care of herself and the thought of asking her mom for help made her want to literally claw her eyes out.

She took a deep breath. The first step was clear: she had to tell Bellamy. He deserved to be as much a part of this decision as she did. So she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

 _Hey, you busy tonight? I'm craving pizza and a movie marathon and O has plans_ , she texted. God, she was really going to miss Bellamy when he freaked out and abandoned her. It had only been six weeks, but he was an important part of her life. She only hoped he could at least forgive her at some point. She would miss him too much if he didn't.

Her phone dinged. _Sure, come over around 8?_

At eight, she was knocking on Bellamy's door. She had spent her day throwing up and crying before taking a shower and trying to look like a human despite the fact that she was falling apart. Six weeks pregnant and she was already _so done_. And now she had to do the hardest thing she'd done in… well, forever.

They ordered pizza and started _Captain America_ , but when Bellamy offered her a beer and she said no thanks he gave her a weird look that made her skin crawl. Her palms were sweaty and she couldn't stop fidgeting. Halfway through the movie, he paused it and turned to face Clarke.

"What's going on, Clarke?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not acting like yourself. So just tell me already so I can stop worrying that you have cancer or something."

She turned to face him. "So, uh, don't freak out…"

"Always the way to keep me calm," he said with a smirk.

"Okay, seriously, if you interrupt one more time I'm gonna lose my cool. This is hard enough." He looked like he wanted to speak, but bit his tongue, the smirk dropping from his face. Clarke took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm pregnant."

Bellamy visibly recoiled, his eyes going wide. "You're… pregnant." Clarke nodded, biting her cheek and handing him the sheet of paper that confirmed it. "I'm the father," he said, barely glancing at the paper in his hands. It wasn't a question, but she nodded again. "Oh my god. A baby. Oh my god." His head fell into his hands for a brief minute before he sat up again, silent.

They sat in continued silence for at least 10 minutes, just staring at the frozen image on the television.

"You know, Jasper's girlfriend, Maya, is a nanny. I'm sure she'd cut us a deal," he finally said.

Clarke stared at Bellamy, incredulous. "I tell you I'm pregnant and your first thought is about a nanny… seriously?"

"Well, we are going to need child care. We work long hours. Why, what would be an appropriate reaction?"

"Maybe asking me if I even want to keep it." Bellamy sucked in a breath.

"You're considering… you know, terminating it?" His voice rose at the end of the sentence.

"No. But that doesn't mean I'm going to keep it. I mean, I'm in med school. We aren't married; hell we aren't even _dating_. This kid deserves a better life than we can give it. There's always adoption."

"I think we could do a good job. I mean, are we together? No. But we both have good career paths, homes, and steady lives. And you're my best friend; that's more than most divorced parents can say. We could do this. We could give this kid a good life."

She looked at Bellamy again, unable to decipher the look on his face. "You want to keep the baby? For real?" He just nodded. More silence.

"We're going to have to tell Octavia," Clarke whispered. Another nod. "And you're going to have to do it… she's less likely to murder someone who shares her genetic material."

"Well, _technically_ , you're carrying my genetic material, so…" he trailed off when she slapped him on the back of the head. "Okay, we'll do it together."

"We're really going to do this?" Clare asked, her palm resting over her still flat belly.

"We're going to try."

Clarke was regretting her entire life when Bellamy called Octavia a couple of hours later and told her that he "had massive news." Of course, his sister immediately sped to his apartment and was only mildly surprised to see Clarke sitting on the sofa, a tub of ice cream on her lap.

"You may want to sit down, O." They'd agreed that Bellamy would do the talking; Clarke was just going to sit there and eat her mint chocolate chip ice cream. When Octavia sat, Bellamy continued. "You remember when I first moved here, when I told you I went to Dropship to relax?"

Octavia nodded dumbly. "Yeah, you ran into Clarke there. Spilled your drink on her. What the hell is this about? Why are we suddenly reminiscing about irrelevant shit? I left Lincoln for this…"

"I didn't just run into Clarke that night. We uh, we hooked up. And that's why we both freaked out when we met."

Octavia was looking at Bellamy like she wanted to murder him. Her eyebrows were knit together and her dark eyes glowed with anger. "You had _sex_ with my _best friend_?" She was definitely yelling. Clarke couldn't help but feel thankful that Bellamy was the target for the anger so far. She just kept eating her ice cream and tried not to smile into her spoon.

"To be fair, O, I didn't know she was your best friend at the time."

"I've showed you tons of pictures of me and Clarke. You had to have known."

"Well, I was more than a little drunk and not really trying to place the hot blonde into my sister's life… Listen, we're getting off track here. It happened and it's over. It hasn't happened since."

Octavia glanced to Clarke with a raised eyebrow before turning back to her brother, who was pacing his living room. "Oooookay, so if it's over, then why are you bothering to tell me? So I can be pissed at you? I don't get it."

"Well, uh, um, well…"

Clarke lost her patience as Bellamy stuttered over himself in a very non-Bellamy way. "I'm pregnant, Octavia."

"You can't be serious."

"She is. She's pregnant."

Octavia looked at Clarke with apprehension but also excitement. "You're going to give birth to a little human that shares my DNA? For real?"

Clarke laughed with relief. "God, O, don't make it sound like it's a lesbian dream or something. I had a one-night stand with your brother and you're going to be an aunt. Congratulations."

"This is ridiculous," Octavia sighed, before laughing along with her friend.

"So you're not mad?" Clarke could literally feel the relief exiting her body.

"At you… no. At my dick of a brother, yeah, kinda."

"Hey! I'm still standing here you know. And this is just as much Clarke's fault as mine. She was just too damn sexy that night."

"Fuck you, Bell. And shut the fuck up. I'm bonding with my niece or nephew and best friend right now. We don't need your help here. You've done enough," she said, but there was no real animosity in her words. Clarke was thrilled that breaking the news to the Blakes hadn't been a catastrophe.

It turned out that telling Octavia meant that their entire group of friends knew within 24 hours. She got a congrats text from Lincoln. Jasper and Monty brought her chocolates and potato ships, which, according to Monty (who had a sister who recently gave birth), was the pregnant woman's go-to kit. Nate Miller, Bellamy's partner, stopped by his apartment with a gift from the entire squad. Soon enough, everyone Clarke knew was aware that she was having a baby. Well, except for her mom. She hadn't gotten the courage to have that conversation yet.

The weeks passed by slowly and before Clarke knew it she was twelve weeks along. "Oh my god, I'm so horny," Clarke whined out loud as she sat on her and Octavia's couch watching mindless TV. "This baby is making me need an orgasm _bad_ , O."

Octavia shot her best friend a look of utter disgust. "I do not ever need to know about your sexual frustration. And I am _so_ going to regret this, but why don't you just fuck my brother?" The grimace on her face showed exactly how horrible the whole subject was for her. "Like, he already knocked you up. Clearly you find him sexy, and nothing worse could happen."

Clarke thought about it. It didn't seem so bad. She trusted Bellamy. Hell, she loved Bellamy (in a platonic, baby-daddy way, of course). And she really, _really_ needed to get laid. Apparently, Octavia saw her considering it, because she quickly excused herself, claiming that she and Lincoln had plans.

Clarke had the house all to herself. But Bellamy wasn't there either. And it's not like she could just call him to come over; he was working. So she'd just have to take matters into her own hands. She turned off the TV and made her way into her room. She collapsed on to her bed, her skin warming as she ran her hands along her stomach, which had the slightest hint of a bump. Quickly stripping out of her clothes, she pulled her phone up and found her favorite erotic story, the one that never failed to make her wet. The words on the page seemed to come to life and before long Clarke felt her nipples tightening and her a flood of warmth in between her thighs.

She closed her eyes and imagined that Bellamy's hands were sliding along her body, that his lips were wrapping around her nipple as she tugged at it. She could see his tan skin, pulled taut over his muscular body and painted with freckles. His dark eyes as they burned into hers and the dimple of his chin. She could feel his mouth as it descended on her, his lips kissing her labia before sucking on her. With the image so real in her mind, one hand began rubbing at her clit and Clarke's free hand reached into her bedside table drawer and pulled out her trust vibrator. It certainly wasn't Bellamy's cock, but it would do in a pinch. She replaced her hand and held the vibrating toy to her clit, her other hand squeezing her breast and pinching her nipple. It would have been embarrassing how quickly she got to the edge, her back arching as she whined and whimpered, if she wasn't alone.

Clarke's mind traveled to Bellamy. Not his body, or the magic he could do with his hands, but _him_. How he laughed when they watched funny movies. How he slurped his pasta. How he knew her coffee order and her favorite t-shirt. How he texted her every morning to say good morning and every night to say goodnight. And before she knew it, she was coming, _hard._

" _Bellamy_ ," she hissed, her back arching off the bed. It hit her so strong that it took her a few minutes to recover.

And, once she recovered, she realized one undeniable fact: she was in love with Bellamy Blake.


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so, so sorry. I promise I won't make you wait that long again. I will go back and edit this chapter later.**

As her feelings washed over her the next morning, Clarke fought the shock. She wasn't… she couldn't be _in love_ with Bellamy. It wasn't possible. And yet…

She reflected back, but she couldn't identify that moment where everything had changed. One minute he was a stranger she used to scratch an itch, and then he was her best friend, and the next minute she was in love. And all of that had happened in a few months. The baby was definitely fucking with her emotions; that was the only logical explanation. She spent the rest of the day worrying about what this new development meant in her life. She had a baby on the way; she couldn't afford to suddenly be lovesick. Especially not when the target of her affection was also her baby daddy. That just wasn't acceptable. It _had_ to be the hormones.

She repressed everything all day, dragging herself to work and focusing on her patients.

That night, when Bellamy got off of work, he came over. It wasn't unusual for him to come by for dinner and a movie, and then stay over. However, this time, Clarke was already tucked into bed, her eyes closed as she tried to sleep, exhausted from her shift and the emotions weighing on her. He slipped into the bed next to Clarke, pulling her close, his hand rubbing her slightly swollen belly. This was a position they had taken to sleeping in – it seemed to help Clarke fend off the discomfort of being pregnant at night. It also just felt natural to be close to Bellamy. She guessed that he didn't know she was awake, because he nosed at her shoulder and kissed it softly before sighing into her hair. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and he was asleep. Before long, the feel of his heartbeat and his warm breath against her skin lulled her to sleep.

When she woke up in the morning, he was gone, but there was a note on the pillow, letting her know he had to go to work but he'd see her soon. Clarke deflated a little, but dragged herself out of bed to eat breakfast. She slipped some toast into the toaster and then poured some orange juice before popping her pre-natal vitamin into her mouth.

"You slept with my brother."

Clarke nearly choked on her pill before swallowing and coughing. "Shit, O, don't do that. And no, I didn't sleep with your brother."

Octavia's eyes narrowed. "It isn't a big deal, you don't have to lie to me."

"Okay, fine, we _slept_. As in, snoring and all. I think he may have drooled on my pillow."

"Seriously? That's it?! God, the two of you, its like pulling teeth!"

Clarke looked at her best friend quizzically. "Wait, are you _trying_ to get us together?"

Octavia sighed. "Of course I am, Clarke. Oh my god, sometimes I'm amazed by your lack of insight into your own feelings. You are the mother of my niece or nephew, and Bell makes you smile this fucking glowing smile that I've never, ever seen on your face before. So of course I want you two together. I love you both, and I see the way you guys look at each other when you think the other isn't looking. This isn't about the baby. It's about wanting you to be happy. So talk to him."

Clarke looked at her friends and sighed deeply. Octavia was right. She couldn't pretend like Bellamy wasn't important to her. So she decided to do what any possibly insane, pregnant and hormonal woman would do. She was going to find him and tell him how she felt.

And she needed to do it as soon as possible, before she could chicken out.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted him, asking if he is home. No response came, and as the day wore on, she obsessed more and more. She went to the hospital and did her rotation on the pediatric unit (managing to only cry once when a little girl with black, curly hair and freckles comes in and they have to refer her to a pediatric oncologist). All the while, she couldn't get Bellamy, or her feelings for Bellamy, out of her head.

Her phone never beeped. And it fucking hurt. _Damn it, that's why she didn't_ do _feelings._

That night, when she got off work and knew he would be home, she got in her car and drove over to his apartment. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. She was still wearing her scrubs, and her hair was a mess, and she had the beginnings of a baby bump. She was sure she looked like hell. But it didn't matter. She could do it, she could tell him how she felt. She _would_ tell him how she felt.

Standing there in front of his door, the seconds felt like hours. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? Just as Clarke turned away and was about to leave, to give up any hope of telling him the truth, the door opened. She held her breath, trying to prepare mentally for spilling her guts.

"Can I help you?" a distinctly _not Bellamy_ voice asked. Clarke spun on her heals, eyes wide with surprise. A woman stood at the door, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, her wet, brown hair in a messy ponytail. She was holding a bottle of Bellamy's favorite IPA in her hand.

This girl was far too comfortable in Bellamy's apartment to be a stranger. Tears pricked at Clarke's eyes and she swallowed them back. _She was so stupid to think that someone as gorgeous and wonderful as Bellamy wasn't getting some elsewhere._

"H-Hi. Is, um, is Bellamy here?" she asked, because she wasn't fortunate enough to get sucked into a black hole right at that opportune moment.

The brunette smiled. "He's in the shower. Are you a friend? Is he expecting you?"

 _The shower. Fuck._

"Uh, I'm a friend of his. I left a movie here the last time we did a movie night and I was hoping I could just grab it really quick." It wasn't a lie, per se. Lots of Clarke's movies were stored in Bellamy's living room cabinet.

The woman nodded, opening the door wider and ushering Clarke in. "I'm Echo, by the way. It's nice to meet one of Bellamy's friends, _finally_. He should be out in a minute if you want to wait." Clarke fought the bile rising in her throat. _Finally_. How long exactly had Bellamy been seeing this woman? For as long as he'd been cuddling with Clarke? For as long as he'd known she was pregnant? Since before he slept with her? _Bastard_. And he didn't even have the balls to tell her. Fuck, what if this woman was her baby's stepmother one day. She deserved to know.

"I'm Clarke, nice to meet you too. And no, I'm actually late, just needed the movie. Thanks," she mumbled, grabbing the first DVD that she recognized as her own before quickly moving to the door again diligently avoiding eye contact the entire time. "Have a good night," she whispered before leaving the apartment and disappeared into the night again.

 _Echo_. What kind of fucking name was Echo? And she wasn't even that pretty. Like, sure, she had _really good_ cheekbones, but that's it. Clarke had way better tits. But clearly Bellamy wasn't a tit guy. And apparently he liked girls with darker hair and eyes. Ugh, the entire thing was driving Clarke insane. She was comparing herself to a complete stranger and losing all sense of self-confidence.

Octavia wasn't home, so Clarke changed into her pajamas, ordered pizza, and decided to binge on Fuller House on Netflix while she cried. And god, she cried. The fucking bastard went and knocked her up, made her fall for him, and the whole time… well, there was _Echo._

Text messages from Bellamy went unanswered for the next two days.

 _Hey._

 _Sorry I missed your texts yesterday – I was in training and then hanging out with my partner._

 _Echo told me you stopped by – you okay?_

 _What are you doing?_

 _Clarke, are you okay?_

 _Is the baby okay?_

 _Clarke?_

 _….CLARKE?_

 _I knocked on the door tonight. You didn't answer. Your car was in the lot. What's going on?_

 _O won't talk to me about you. Says it's between us._

 _Clarke, please, just tell me what I did so I can fix it._

 _I miss you._

Clarke didn't tell Octavia what happened. She didn't tell anyone. She called in sick to work and camped out in her bedroom.

On the third day, Clarke turned off her phone because the calls and texts were getting overwhelming.

On the fourth day, Octavia went out of town. She didn't want to, but she had a work obligation that couldn't be rescheduled. With one glance at her pitiful best friend, she left with a sigh. Suddenly Clarke was completely alone in the apartment – not that it mattered, it wasn't like she was planning on leaving her bed. She hadn't so much as showered in _days_.

Late at night, she was drifting off to sleep to re-runs of some 1980s TV show when there was banging on her door. She felt her heartbeat speed up and sat up in bed. Before she could do anything else, she heard the front door squeak open and then slam closed. She tried to find her cell phone, which had been sorely neglected for days, but couldn't find it.

And then, all of the sudden, Bellamy was at her bedroom door. And he was _pissed_ , the anger practically radiating off of him. She was once again regretting her life decisions.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am soooo sorry that I haven't updated in forever. My job has been crazy and I've been dealing with some personal things. I also ran into a rut with this fic, I think. But here is the next chapter. Only one more after this one! As usual, I own nothing but the plot. Please review.**

 **This chapter is rated M.**

"What the fuck?" Clarke nearly screamed, jumping out of her bed and flipping on the bedside lamp. "What the fuck are you doing here, Bellamy?"

"Yeah, what the fuck, _Clarke_? When the mother of my child, who also happens to be my best friend, falls off the face of the planet, I tend to do crazy things like break in to her apartment. Who would of thought?" Bellamy hissed at her. He was glaring and if looks could kill, she'd be long gone.

Clarke recoiled at the tone of his voice. He wasn't only angry; he was hurt. She could hear it in the low timber of his voice. She could see it in his eyes. No matter how bad she was hurting, she didn't want to hurt _him_. They had to talk, as much as it could break her. She had to be strong.

"I… I'm sorry. I just – I needed some space. It was all too much."

"Why didn't you talk to me about whatever the hell is going on with you? I'm your best fucking friend Clarke, we tell each other everything! I could've been there for you. Especially since you've apparently been telling Octavia nothing, either." His anger was still bubbling at the surface as they faced off with nothing but a queen-sized bed between them.

"I couldn't," she whispered, the tears building up in her eyes and finally spilling over.

The anger drained from Bellamy's face with her tears and he moved around the bed toward her. She slightly recoiled as his arms wrapped around her waist, but the warmth and comfort of his arms were too much to resist. She melted into the hug. Her nose was tucked into his neck as she breathed in his scent. He smelled like home. _Bellamy felt like home._

After what felt like only a few seconds, Bellamy released her. He still stood close, their breath mingling between them. "Why? Why couldn't you tell me? You know you can tell me anything, Clarke," he whispered.

Clarke wiped at her eyes. "Echo."

Bellamy's brows furrowed. He was clearly confused. "What does Echo have to do with anything?" he asked.

"I couldn't tell you because of Echo."

"That didn't clarify anything, Clarke." He looked confused, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her like he could see into her soul.

Clarke was frustrated. He was honestly going to make her admit the most embarrassing thing ever out loud. Fine, she'd just get it over with. "Well, I can't very well tell you I love you when your girlfriend answers the door while you're in the shower, can I? So yeah, _Echo_." Well, at least she'd ripped off the bandaid.

If Bellamy was confused before, he was clearly shocked now. His eyebrows were high on his forehead and his lips turned up. "You love me?"

"It doesn't fucking matter, Bell," she snapped.

"Yes it does, Clarke. _It really fucking matters_!" he yelled at her. The tension was rolling off of him in waves.

Clarke sat down on the bed. "What, are you going to break up with Echo because your baby mama loves you? I'm just a pregnant, hormonal, fat woman. Who you clearly don't have feelings for. It's fine; I get it. We will raise our kid as friends. It will be fine. Please leave now." Her voice broke at the end, when she had to go against every instinct she had and tell him to leave.

Bellamy started laughing and sat down next to her.

What. The. Fuck? What was _wrong_ with him, taking pleasure in her heartbreak? "Why the hell are you laughing?"

He continued to chuckle. "Echo. She isn't my girlfriend and never will be. She's my _partner_. My completely platonic, fellow police officer, partner. Her apartment flooded, so she spent a couple days crashing in my guest room. She's also a lesbian. She probably got more out of her conversation with you than she did when I walked around in my boxers. You're hot."

The blood rushed to Clarke's face as she fell backward on the bed with a groan. "You're lying," she said. When he shook his head she continued. "You've _got_ to be kidding me. What happened to Miller?"

"Nope, not kidding. Miller is on special assignment – an old case he worked in narcotics got hot again and they needed him. I swear I told you. Echo's been a friend and co-worker since I got here, and we are temporary partners until Miller gets back. When her house flooded, I offered my spare room."

"Fuck my life."

He turned to look at her, his hand reaching for hers as he leaned over so his face was hovering above hers. "So, you still love me?"

"Yeah, I still love you, you fucking asshole."

The smile that broke out on his face was radiant. Clarke had never seen a human being so happy. "Good, cause I love you too, even though you're an inconsiderate bitch who nearly gave me a heart attack after four days without communication," he teased. He leaned down, his lips meeting hers gently. His hand slid down until it was lying atop her swollen belly. Her hand went to his hair, tugging slightly.

When they separated, Bellamy rested his forehead against hers. His free hand caressed her arm and she could feel the sparks of lust coursing through her veins.

"So, just a side note – this baby is making me so fucking horny I nearly orgasmed watching a _Gossip Girl_ sex scene the other night. I'm gonna wear you out," she said as she crawled back into the bed.

"Really?" Bellamy asked, a glint in his eye. She loved seeing him all riled up. But she was emotionally exhausted. All she wanted to do was cuddle and bask in the fact that he loved her and their baby and he was _hers_.

"Yes, really. But not tonight. Tonight I want my boyfriend to hold me." Bellamy just smiled softly at her before laying down next to her. Clarke rolled on her side and Bellamy slid behind her, spooning her, his hand gently rubbing circles on her belly.

"Your boyfriend, huh?" he whispered into her ear.

"Unless you don't want to be…"

Bellamy's arms tightened around Clarke's waist. "Of course I want to be your boyfriend, Princess. Just you wait, you have no idea what a good boyfriend I can be." He kissed her hair. She immediately began to doze, finally comfortable after days of misery. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

In no time at all, the morning sun was beating into Clarke's room through the curtains and she was waking up. A glance at the clock showed that it was 9 am. Before she could think of anything else, her body registered the hand gently cupping her breast over her pajama top. It was warm and so, so good. She had been extra sensitive for the past couple of weeks, and her nipple stood at attention at the light graze of Bellamy's palm. She scooted back and her ass grazed him. He was hard against her.

Suddenly she felt like she was on fire. She turned so that she was facing Bellamy, guiding his hand to her ass. He was shirtless, his dark curls tousled adorably. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek softly, willing him to wake up but unable to convince herself to wake him up herself. She scooted over until her chest was skimming his.

Bellamy's nose crinkled and he opened his eyes just enough for Clarke to see the sprinkles of gold in his brown eyes.

"Morning," he said in a husky voice that made her clench with anticipation and _want._ She didn't say anything, just leaned in and kissed him with everything she had. His hands immediately moved over her body and she shivered under his touch and sighed. It felt so right being with him.

She ran her hands, along his bare chest, her hands grazing his rock hard abs. She teased his nipples with her fingertips and relished the moan that she pulled from his lips. Pulling away from his lips, Clarke nibbled on his right earlobe before licking from his ear to his neck, sucking the soft skin there. He groaned as he rubbed his hands across her protruding mid-section.

Clarke could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of her panties. She moved her mouth down his body, peppering him with soft kisses. Soon, she was on her knees on the bed, leaning over him and pulling at his sweatpants. She looked up at him as she ran her hands across the waistband of his boxers.

His eyes were closed and his head was back, his dark curls a complete mess from her hands and sleep. He was in pure bliss, Clarke could tell. She slipped his boxers off his body and freed his pulsing cock. As soon as she did so, she knew then that she could never get enough of his gorgeous member. Honestly, it was confusing that she'd gone this long without it. He moaned as she kissed the head of his cock and ran her tongue from his balls to his tip. Suddenly, she took his entire length in his mouth and brought her mouth up and down slowly. It was enough to tease but not make him cum.

"Fuck, Clarke. You don't know how much I've dreamed about this since that night…" Bellamy's sentence cut off as he moaned loudly as she sped up her movements, taking him into her mouth with fervor. Clarke felt a surge of pride run through her. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. His hands were in her blonde curls, tugging gently. She sped up the pace even more as his muscles continued to tense. "Stop, Babe. Clarke, I'm gonna…" She squeezed his balls with her hand and he exploded almost immediately. Her mouth filled with warm, salty liquid as he pulled her up the bed until she was sprawled on top of him and he was consuming her like he was in the desert and she was a glass of water. Clearly, the taste of himself on her tongue was a turn on for him.

He growled as he started kissing her more roughly, his tongue brushing hers. _God, the things he does to her._ Bellamy quickly pulled away from her mouth and tugged her t-shirt over her head so he could assault her breasts with his hands and his tongue. Clarke couldn't help but squirm at the amazing feeling, her hips rutting down into him so her center was skimming his thighs. The friction was at least some relief for her intense need. One of his large hands dipped into her panties as his lips and other hand fondled her chest. She sighed at the surge of pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers grazed her mound, teasing her without dipping inside. She wanted to scream; she had wanted this for so long, it felt _so good_. But she needed more. "Bell!" she moaned loudly. He pulled his mouth away from her and smirked. As he was staring into her eyes, she felt a finger dip inside her and nearly collapsed with pleasure. This is what she had been wanting for months. She'd dreamed about. She'd cum to thoughts of it. And now it was happening.

"God damn, you're so hot, Clarke. You're so wet for me." Bellamy was hard again. She could feel his member against her thigh as he slid a second and then a third finger inside her. His thumb grazed her most sensitive area and she couldn't help but scream. She began to ride his fingers. His lips met hers once again, as she climaxed for a second time with his gentle caress. Bellamy was blurry and she was screaming into his mouth, unable to control herself as the floodgates opened.

As she came down from her high, Bellamy pulled his fingers out of her and pulled her panties down her long legs. Her body felt like jello, but she still needed more. She needed him inside her. Before she could do anything else or beg him, he'd flipped them over, so he was hovering over her, and taken both her hands in one of his, pinning them above her head.

Before she knew what was happening or reacted, he slowly entered her. Her entire body seized as he filled her, listening to his deep groan of pleasure. "Holy shit, Clarke. How are you real? You're so much tighter than I remember." She couldn't find it inside herself to speak, so she just moaned and leaned up a bit, so that his chest rubbed her sensitive nipples with each thrust, even though he was leaving space between his body and the baby bump. His speed increased as the pleasure built for both of them.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her, making her whine pathetically, mourning the loss of his cock inside of her. But before she could yell at him to _get back inside her_ , Bellamy flipped her over and then pulled her up, positioning her on her hands and knees. She gasped as he slid back inside of her roughly. Before long, he was slamming into her from behind at a lightening pace. _Oh my god. Jesus._ She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. All she knew was Bellamy's cock was meant to be inside of her. He was touching places inside of her that she had never reached with a man before, but only with the toy she hid in her drawer.

He reached around her body and rubbed her bundle of nerves again. The pounding and the rubbing and the intensity of everything got to her and she felt another orgasm coming quickly. " _Bellamy_ ," she groaned as he brought the hand that wasn't on her clit to her tit, pinching and twisting the nipple. She was so oversensitive and over stimulated, she felt like she was going to explode.

The pleasure continued to grow and the tension was growing inside of her. "Bell, oh my god, Bellamy. More, harder, harder!" she was screaming and thrashing as she approached her peak once again. His hand left her chest and rested on the swell of her stomach.

"Oh god, Clarke. Fuck, I love you," he nearly moaned. She could tell he was close as he frantically thrusted into her. She felt her walls clench around Bellamy and then he was releasing inside of her. They came down together, sighing. Bellamy slipped out of her and turned her over, pulling her in for a mind-blowing kiss.

"That was…" he began, but she interrupted.

"Just the beginning," she said with a smile and a giggle before kissing his neck.

"Did I hurt you? Or the baby?" he asked, growing more concerned as the lust faded from his mind. "Oh my god, Clarke. The baby!"

Clarke smiled at him, curling up next to him. "The baby is fine, and so am I. That was _exactly_ what I needed. You are exactly what I needed. I love you."

He grinned at her and kissed her on the nose. "I love you too. Now, lets get some more sleep." They drifted off like that, curled together in Clarke's bed.

That was how Octavia found them two hours later.


End file.
